Shadows of the Past
by Tifaching
Summary: Where did John disappear to at the beginning of the series?  How did he find out the truth about Sam?  How much did he know about Mary and her deal?  This is my backstory for that time.  Spoilers for Pilot, Nightmare, and In The Beginning.
1. Chapter 1

_Where did John disappear to at the beginning of the series? How did he find out the truth about Sam? How much did he know about Mary and her deal? This is my backstory for that time. Hope you enjoy!_

It's a woman in white. John has the thought processes that led him to that conclusion pinned on every available space on his hotel room wall and from his recently concluded interview with Constance Welch's husband he has this case pretty well wrapped up. Now he just has to locate the plot where Constance was buried, dig her up, salt and burn the bones and move on to his next hunt. John sighed and rubbed his hand across his tired eyes. He and Dean had split up after a successful ghoul hunt in Colorado just over three weeks ago. Dean headed for New Orleans to tackle what sounded like the spirit of a pissed off voodoo practitioner and John first to Oregon after a poltergeist that turned out to be a spoiled teenage girl, then to Jericho. He's not really sorry that he sent Dean off on his own. His son's a damn good hunter in his own right and it's time to see what he can do without his father in his back pocket all the time. But sometimes, sometimes John misses him. He'd hunted alone for years when the boys were young and they had only accompanied him sporadically in their teen years. Since Sam left for Stanford, though, he and Dean have hunted as a team. It's hard now, not having Dean snarking at him in the motel room, not having him to bounce ideas off of and most of all not having anyone to share the backbreaking job of digging up graves.

John took a bite of his burger and relaxed back onto the bed, the lines of salt and crushed cat's eye he placed on the floor intact around him. He'd run into Constance while investigating the bridge she'd taken her dive off of and even for an angry spirit, the woman was a bitch. She'd managed to take control of his truck and had damn near run him down. It had been close, but the thought that he was getting older, had maybe lost a step wasn't one he would dwell on. He'd laid down protective lines in case she'd gotten the idea to follow him home and had made sure his truck was loaded with iron and salt in case she showed up there while he was in it. After making a few notes in his journal, John opened his laptop and began his weekly check of weather patterns across the continental U.S. He smiled to himself as he pictured his boys surprise at his sophisticated system. Sam had always said his father didn't have the technological knowhow to operate a toaster but the programming that tracked the weather and certain keywords was as up to date as anything his youngest could have put together.

John clicked open his program and began to scan the items listed. His burger dropped to the table, only one or two bites gone. There had been more and more of the distinctive weather patterns that signaled demonic activity over the last month or so, but he had long since realized the futility of trying to personally check all of them out. In the ten years since he had figured out what he was looking for, none of them had had the one factor that would bring him from wherever in the world he happened to be. Until now. One of the weather patterns had centered around a small town in Texas and now the local news was reporting a fire. A fire that had started in a nursery. A fire in which there had been fatalities, but the infant and his father had survived. John's heart started to pound and he closed his eyes and took deep breaths until he had brought himself back under control. Finally, finally the thing that had killed his Mary was showing itself again. John grabbed his journal and put Dean's name and the coordinates for the next hunt he had been planning on the back page before putting it down and throwing his things together. Dean knew he was here, would come looking for him. The journal was his now. John had just one thing he was interested in hunting from this point on and he had a separate journal for that. One that the boys had never seen. As if he needed it. All the information he needed for this hunt was burned into his mind.

A few minutes later, John was throwing his duffles into the truck and pulling out of the parking lot. The room was paid for for another week and he had made it clear early on that he would be in and out and that his room was not to be disturbed. Dean should be here and gone before the credit card fraud was discovered. He would follow John's layout without much trouble, finish the hunt and clean up John's research before anyone would be the wiser. John pressed #1 on his speed dial and sighed in relief as he got Dean's voice mail. Speaking to him live would lead to all sorts of questions John didn't want to answer now.

"Dean," he began, "something big is starting to happen. Can't tell you what right now. I need to try to figure out what's going on. Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger." He hung up and glanced sideways at Constance sitting next to him on the seat. "I so don't have time for your shit right now." he growled as he showered her with salt and swung the iron bar he'd kept handy for just this occasion. Say what you want about her, Constance wasn't a quitter and she kept on trying to get to John until they were twenty miles past her usual hunting grounds and she vanished from the truck with her last "I can never go home." lingering after her.

"Tough shit, lady." John replied to the empty air. "Me either."

John hadn't spoken to Dean for several weeks before his warning phone call. Hadn't wanted to look like he was checking up on him, though Dean had called him and left messages. He had done well in New Orleans and was now in Arizona hunting a black dog. It was good that he was fairly close. Dean would be able to make it to Jericho in just a day or two and hopefully he would be able to check on Sam while he was in the area. John had stopped by Stanford before heading to Jericho and had stayed long enough to see Sam on the quad with a beautiful blonde who had been looking at Sam the way Mary used to look at John. John's heart twisted. He wanted Sam to have a long and happy life with his gorgeous girlfriend, while at the same time knowing that if what had happened twenty-two years ago was starting up again, Sam was likely not going to get that chance. John hit the gas and started the long journey to Texas. He would get as far as he could tonight and then research the fire and survivors. It might not be the same thing it was before, but if it was? This time John would kill the son of a bitch dead.

*********************************************************

Three days later John walked into his hotel room and ripped the tie from his neck. His pose as an F.B.I. agent had gotten him an interview with Thomas Watkins, the survivor he had come all this way to talk to and talking to the grief stricken man had been like a punch in the gut. Watkins had sat on the couch at his sister's house, cradling his infant son like he would never let him go again. His story matched most of those John had managed to collect his first time through this. A noise in the nursery, maybe a scream. Running in to see the room burst into flames. Grabbing his son. When questioned as to the whereabouts of his wife during the fire, the man only gave him a haunted look, opened his mouth as if to say something and then shut it again.

"She's dead. Burned. With my baby," was all he managed. When John pointed out, as gently as he could, that his baby was alive, had made it out of the fire, the man gave a pained moan. "My other baby. My other son. He was four. I looked, but I couldn't find him. Had to get Evan out before I lost him too."

"Do you think your wife was with your other son?" John tried to keep his voice level past the bile that was threatening to choke him. He had thought he was past this reaction to the thought of how much more he could have lost that night.

The crazed, fearful look the man shot him made John pretty sure he knew exactly where Watkins' wife had been during the fire, but his leading questions only made the man more frantic.

"On the ceiling? That would be crazy!" The man looked down at his sleeping son and hugged him tighter. He looked back at John and tried to calm himself. "I'm not crazy."

John could sympathize with his reluctance to tell the truth to authorities. His own attempts to explain what he had seen had been put down to post traumatic stress, and when he had persisted with them Child Protective Services had been called. In order to keep his children, he had to lie about what had happened in Sammy's nursery. John nodded, thanked Watkins for his time and headed back to his hotel.

John's jacket followed his tie and he threw himself onto the bed, lying back and staring at the ceiling. He remembered far too clearly his own introduction into the world of crazy. He knew what he had seen that night, knew that no one would believe him. Hell if anyone had come to him with a story like that, he would have worried for their children too. But he was a Marine, damn it. He'd seen a lot in his life, had been trained to trust his eyes and his instincts. None of his training had helped though. Not then. Needing help to try to figure out what he had seen, he had called a psychic in Lawrence. That had been his introduction to Missouri Mosely. He was past being skeptical when he went to meet her and it didn't take much to convince him she was the real deal. She gave him the intro to Spirits 101 and led him into the world he had inhabited ever since. He had expressed disbelief at some of the things that she had told him though. Werewolves, vampires, demons- fairy tales.

"You know what you saw, John Winchester. If you think you were hallucinating, you'd best leave now, because I got no time for fools. You think what killed your Mary is the only evil thing out there in the dark? Let me tell you, there's a lot more where that thing came from." She had stared at him challengingly, her dark eyes serious. "You want to protect those boys of yours? Better find out what you're dealing with."

With that she had pointed him in the direction of Jim Murphy, who connected him with other hunters. What he learned from Daniel Elkins, Bobby Singer, Bill Harvelle and a multitude of others, combined with his military skills had made him a formidable hunter and he had trained his boys from childhood to kill evil wherever they found it.

It had taken him years to put together the weather patterns, but the nursery fires had been easier. It had been four years after the fires that he had begun his odyssey to find out if the other survivors had seen what he had. He had hit dead end after dead end. No one had seen anything unusual or would admit it if they had. John had been discouraged, but hadn't given up. None of the people he talked to could or would help him. Then he had gone to Saginaw and met Jim Miller.

When investigating the other fire victims, John always started with intensive background checks. Most of them had turned out to be exactly what they seemed. Grieving husbands or wives. Loving parents to their children. Some had remarried, some were raising their children single handed. None had given him any indication of any dark secret in their past. Until Michigan. Until the Millers.

Jim Miller wasn't from Saginaw, he had moved there in 1975, from an unknown location, bringing his younger brother Roger along with him. His past was a very good fabrication. John had learned a lot about fake identities in the last few years and Jim Miller's was solid. No matter how deep John dug, he couldn't  
>uncover the man's real name or where he was from. Giving up for now on discovering the man's distant past, John concerned himself with digging into his more recent doings.<p>

Jim Miller lived in a neat house in a neat neighborhood with his brother living next door. He had remarried to a pretty blonde and had a four year old named Max. The Millers were very religious, the lady down the street had informed John. At church every Sunday and having the priests over for dinner at least twice a month. According the the neighbor across the street, Jim Miller was a vicious drunk and a child abuser and his brother wasn't any better. According to him, the first Mrs. Miller had died in a car accident. The barkeep at the neighborhood tavern where Miller spent his evenings said he was basically a good guy, but when he was drunk... well, he'd just say that JIm had some wild tales to tell. When John had asked him to repeat some of the stories, the man had backed off a little. Apparently Jim Miller wasn't that good of a guy and if John wanted to hear the stories, he should show up on Friday. That was usually the night Jim got drunk enough to tell them.

John had left the boys with Pastor Jim so he was free to do what he liked while waiting for Friday to roll around. He was torn between posing as a priest with expertise in devils and demons and just going and getting drunk with Miller. He decided that he'd at least talk to the Miller's parish priest. Men of the cloth didn't usually open up about their what their parishoners told them in confidence, but hey, it never hurt to ask and John could be very persistent.

The next morning, John had walked into the small neighborhood church the Millers attended where a priest of about his own age was saying Mass to twenty elderly parishoners. John sat in the back and waited impatiently to speak privately to the priest. When Mass was over and the church had cleared the priest came over and sat next to John.

"Welcome to St. Augustine's. It is welcome isn't it? I don't recall seeing you here before." The priest's eyes were calm and direct and he reminded John favorably of Pastor Jim.

"It's my first time here," John confirmed. "I was hoping you could help me out by answering some questions."

The priest smiled. "Sometimes there are no answers where faith is involved, but ask your questions and I'll see what I can do."

"Do you believe in evil Father?"

"I do. Where there is good, something must balance it. There is God and he is the source of all that is good. But there is also Satan and he is always active in his efforts to undo God's work."

"But do you believe in evil that's only supposed to be real in stories? Spirits, hellhounds, demons?" John's voice was low and intense and the priest's gaze grew more serious.

"My faith is all about things I have never seen. I believe completely in God and angels. I also believe in the Devil and that his minions walk the earth doing his bidding. I have never encountered that kind of evil myself, but I hope that if I ever do I will be up to the challenge of defeating it."

John took a deep breath. Now came the questions that he really needed answered. "But you do know someone who has run into that kind of evil, don't you Father? What can you tell me about Jim Miller?"

The priest's gaze became less open, more wary. "Jim and his family are members of my parish."

"How long have you known them?"

"Are you with law enforcement, Mr..?" the priest's voice was now as guarded as his gaze.

"My name is John Winchester. And no I'm not a cop."

"Then can you tell me what your interest is in the Millers? I'm not in the habit of discussing my parishoners with anyone, never mind a total stranger." The priest's voice was hard now and John knew he'd have to be particularly persuasive here. Hell, he'd already told the truth about his name. Might as well go all in.

"Four years ago, my wife died. In a fire. In the room where my six month old son was. I was downstairs. Sleeping." John's voice faltered a little. "_Sleeping. _I heard my wife scream and I ran upstairs. She wasn't in our room so I went to the nursery, but she wasn't there either. I thought for a minute that I had been dreaming, but then a drop of blood fell into my son's crib." He looked up and met the priest's eyes. They showed a dawning horror and understanding. "Do you know what happened next, Father?"

"No," the priest said, but John wasn't convinced.

"Neither do I. Not really. My wife was on the ceiling, bleeding from a slash across her stomach. Then she just burst into flames and the fire started to engulf the room. I grabbed my son from his crib and thank God my four year old had already come out of his room. I handed him his brother and told him to get out of the house. I tried to go back for my wife, but she was gone. Since that night, I've found out a lot about things I thought were just stories. Met people whose lives have been ruined by myths. Met people who hunt evil things and wipe them off the face of the earth. I tracked down a few other people who lost loved ones in a fire that started in a nursery, but none of them saw anything unusual. I've heard that Jim Miller did. I need to know what he saw, if he can help me understand what happened. If he knows what killed our wives. Why the nursery? Did it do something to the babies? Please Father. I need to know."

"I may have heard a similar story, but I can't give you any more details than that. I can, however, talk to the person who told me this story and see if I can get him to tell it to you too. I can't guarantee anything, and even if he does agree to talk to you... well you'll see. Where can I reach you?"

John smiled. "I told you my real name and my real story, when I had believable substitutes ready for both. That's way further than my trust usually goes, padre. I'll get in touch with you tomorrow. Will you be here?"

"I'm saying Mass at 7 and 10 tomorrow morning. I'll be in the church until 1p.m., and then I have some appointments. I'll see if I can get you an appointment with the man you need to talk to." The priest stood and started toward the front of the church, hesitating after a few steps and stopping John before he got out the door. "Mr. Winchester, if you don't mind answering a question for me." At John's nod he continued. "Where are your children? Are they all right?"

John's eyes narrowed and now his voice was the one that was hard. "They're fine. I left them with a friend. A pastor, in fact. Is there a reason you think they wouldn't be fine?"

"No. I just... No. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

John turned to walk out of the church and somewhere in the distance a phone was ringing. No one had his number, hell he didn't even have a cell phone then, and with a start he woke up, no longer in Michigan, but back in Texas.

The display window on the phone read Dean, and John sighed and let it go to voice mail. Dean had called about forty times in the days since John left his message. His boy was nothing if not persistent. John had listened to the first few, but since he had no intention of calling Dean to let him know what was going on, he had ignored the rest. No way he was giving Dean a cell phone to track. Boy'd be on his doorstep before he knew it.

John hadn't gotten much sleep since he'd left Jericho, and the dream he had had during his brief nap had made it anything but restful. He decided he'd take a shower, get into some more comfortable clothes and get himself something to eat before continuing his research on Thomas Watkins and his late wife.

Two hours later, John left the diner and began to run down his list of friends and family of Meredith Watkins.  
>By the time he'd eliminated all of them who hadn't known her for more than ten years, he still had a long list of people to interview. He wasn't sure why he would bother, most people wouldn't have a clue about what had actually happened, and if they did they probably wouldn't tell him about it anyway. Maybe she wasn't the only one in this area. Hell, that had happened at least once before.<p>

By ten o'clock Sunday night, he was less than halfway through his list and it had gone pretty much like he had expected. If Meredith Watkins had had an amazing, life changing experience ten years ago, no one was talking about it. Exhausted, John went back to his room, ignored five more messages from Dean on his phone and went to bed.

After ten hours of sleep and a good breakfast, John booted up his laptop, feeling one hundred percent better. He decided he'd check up on things in Jericho before doing anything else. He'd hacked into better protected computers than those of a tiny police department plenty of times and it was no trouble getting into their files on the investigation into the missing men. His mouth tightened as he read the report on the supposed evidence found in a motel room that had been paid for with a fraudulent credit card. His whole body tensed as he continued on to the description of the suspect who had been taken into custody outside that room. Mid twenties, six one, green eyes, brown hair, leather jacket, cocky son of a bitch, possible first name Dean. Had been seen earlier at a crime scene posing as a federal marshal. John relaxed at the information that the suspect had escaped, taking a journal out of evidence, after being left alone at the station while the police went out to investigate a report of gunshots. The call was later found to be a fake probably perpetrated by the man's accomplice. The accomplice had also been posing as a marshal at the crime scene and was described as in his early twenties, six four, brown hair, hazel eyes.

_Sam?_ Sam had come looking for him with Dean? Dean must have gone straight to Palo Alto after getting John's message and had somehow convinced his brother to come with him to Jericho. John tried to picture the conversation and couldn't see anything that Dean could have said to accomplish that. John kept close tabs on Sam and he knew all about the law school interview. It was today for God's sake and he knew that Sam wouldn't miss that for anything. Without contacting Dean there was no way to know if they had finished the job in Jericho and even if they hadn't Sam would insist that Dean have him back well before this morning. John sighed and shored up his resolve to keep his boys away from him while he tracked the demon that had killed their mother. He opened his weather tracking program to see if the bastard had been anywhere else since he had killed Meredith Watkins and his heart froze at what he saw. The damned thing had been in Palo Alto last night.

John found a link to the local news and his hand shook over opening the one blaring that a Stanford student had been killed last night in a suspicious fire. The link took him to a televised clip of a reporter standing in front of a burned out building. Sam's building. Updates were coming in that twenty one year old Jessica Moore had been killed last night in a fire in her apartment. The fire had apparently started minutes after her boyfriend, Sam Winchester, had returned from a weekend trip. Mr. Winchester had been pulled out of the burning apartment by his older brother who had just dropped him off and had seen the smoke from the street. The police were investigating, but foul play was not suspected.

_God, Sam. I'm so, so sorry. And Dean, thank you, you did good son. _John's head dropped into his hands and he fought the urge to just jump in his truck and go to his boys. That wouldn't help them. What John needed to do now was find that fucking thing and kill it before it could do his boys or anyone else any more harm. John picked up his phone and stared at it for a minute before deleting Dean's messages. If he listened to the ones from last night he knew he wouldn't be able to resist going to them. Putting his phone away he looked at his weather program again. If the demon had plans after killing Sam's girlfriend, it hadn't gotten to them yet. When it had gone on its country wide trip in 1983, it had hit a new place once or twice a week. Sometimes the weather pattern would last a few hours, sometimes a few days. John had figured it depended on how many visits it had to make in the area. It seemed the only visit it had planned in this area was Meredith Watkins. John sighed and reconsidered his plans to finish talking to Meredith Watkins' friends and family. The demon had targeted _his _family again and he needed to do something about _that._

John's phone rang again and he swore as he dug it out of his pocket. "God damn it, Dean, stop fucking calling me!" He looked at the number on the screen and flipped the phone open. Not Dean.

"Hello Jim," he said, knowing full well why the pastor was calling him.

"John, where are you? Dean's going crazy because you won't answer his calls. Do you know about Sam?"

"I know." John's voice was low and pained as he answered his friend. "It's starting again, Jim. There was another nursery fire in Texas last week. I'm on the trail of the damned thing and I don't want my boys anywhere near me when I find it."

"John," Jim's tone managed to convey sympathy and disapproval at the same time. "I know how hard this is for you, but just disappearing on Dean? Letting Sam think you don't care that he's suffered this horrible loss? They'll look for you, you know."

"And you know they won't find me. I don't expect to walk away from this, Jim. And if I can take the son of a bitch that killed Mary down with me, I'm fine with that. But I can't risk them getting hurt. I won't."

"They're not stupid, John. They know this is the same thing that killed their mother and they'll be looking for it too. What if they find it first? Wouldn't it be better if you were with them?"

"They don't know what I know. How to track it. That we're not the only ones it targeted. They won't find it. But I will. Don't you tell them any of this Jim."

The warning in John's voice didn't disturb his friend. "Don't worry, John." he sighed. "You made damn sure that everything you told me about this was in confession. Your secrets are safe with me. Even if I think you're an idiot for keeping them. And what makes you think _you'll_ find this thing. Your tracking system tells you where it is or where it's been, not where it's going to be. Your luck doesn't run to you being in the same place at the same time by accident."

"Well, that's something I was planning to talk to you about. Demons are your area of interest. Is there any lower demon type activity showing up anywhere?"

"Actually, I was just about to head out on a hunt. There's been demon sign two counties over. Been building up for a couple of weeks and I'm going to check it out. No deaths yet, but something's definitely going on." Jim's voice was resigned. He'd been hunting evil for much longer than John and never seeming to really get anywhere was disheartening.

"Can you wait for me? I can be there in a few days. Two hunters are better than one, especially if you don't know what's going on. I'm going to need your Key of Solomon too. We need to trap one of those things and ask it a few questions."

"Trap one." Jim's voice was flat.

"Yup."

"Great. All right, I'll wait. But come as fast as you can. Who knows what those Hell spawn are up to."

"I'm leaving Texas now. Be there as soon as I can. And Jim? Thank you." John hung up and started to pack. Jim was right. His luck didn't run to just happening to be in the same town as the demon at the same time. He needed a heads up as to what was actually going on and one of the damned things was going to give it to him. 

_Chapter two up soon!_


	2. Chapter 2

Four hours later, John's singing along to the CCR blasting out of the radio and running down song lyrics in his mind was no longer doing it for him. He couldn't keep Sam out of his head. His heart hurt at the thought of what his baby was going through. Sam had loved that girl, his father had seen it in his face. And she had loved him. Could have gone somewhere. Marriage, children, happiness. Now it was all gone. Up in smoke. And Sam had seen it happen, John just knew it. Jessica Moore had had no idea what she was getting into when she had fallen in love with Sam. Any more than he himself had known when he had lost his heart to Mary Campbell. John sighed, and against his better judgment, let his thoughts drift back eighteen years to his conversation with Jim Miller.

The priest, Father Andrews, had set up the meeting between John and Miller for the following evening at the Miller's house. Jim didn't want to go into a lot of detail out in public, he had explained. He also apologized for the fact that it was impossible for Jim to talk about this while sober. Jim was not a pleasant drunk. John had told him not to worry about it. He was not a very nice drunk himself. If Miller could give him information, John didn't care if he was the most obnoxious drunk in the world.

John had stopped by St. Augustine's and followed Father Andrews to the Millers. A pretty blonde woman who introduced herself as Alice, met them at the door and showed them to the study where her husband was waiting. The scattering of beer cans around his chair and the bottle of scotch at his elbow made it clear that, if he wasn't ready to talk now, he would be soon. Alice excused herself and left the three men to talk.

When John had entered the room, Miller had looked up at him with a scowl that had turned to a puzzled look. Father Andrews had settled in a chair, motioning for John to do the same. He had the air of a man who had spent a lot of hours in this room.

"Jim, this is John," he started things off. "He came to the church and told me a story the likes of which I'd only heard once before. He's looking for some answers and was hoping maybe you could give them to him."

"You think your story's like mine, do you?" Miller's voice was hard. "Why don't you tell it to me and we'll see just how alike we are."

John repeated the story he had told the priest the previous day and Miller just stared at him.

"You don't know what it was?" he asked incredulously. "You don't know why? It wasn't you then. Must have been your wife."

John stared at him. "What wasn't me? My wife? Something killed her. I want to know what and why and if you can tell me you'd damned well better start talking."

Miller's eyes were dark and haunted and not nearly drunk enough. "Are you sure you want to know? Why don't you just leave the dead alone and get on with your life?"

John's eyes were just as dark and just as haunted. "Tell me. That thing was in the nursery with my son. I want to know why."

Miller's eyes darkened at the mention of Sam. "I've got my own hell spawn to deal with. I'm sure my Sandra died trying to save him. I wish she'd left him to burn."

"Jim," Father Andrews interjected, throwing John an apologetic glance. "We've talked about this. Whatever happened in the nursery wasn't Max's fault. He was just an innocent baby."

"You don't know that, Father. Let me finish my story and we'll let our friend here make up his own mind about our kids." Miller took another swig of his whiskey and took a deep breath. "It was fourteen years ago. Nineteen seventy three. I was just a kid then, living on my parent's farm in Kansas. My dad, he was a real asshole. Always getting drunk, beating on my mother. He broke her arm three separate times. But she wouldn't leave him. Said a good wife always stood with her man no matter what. I hated her as much as him sometimes because she wouldn't leave. Wouldn't even say a word against him. I was nineteen then. Making plans to get out and live my own life and never look back. I couldn't leave my little brother there by himself with them though and I couldn't stay. I didn't know what I was going to do. Then _he _came."

Miller stopped, staring into space and taking another drink until John prompted him. "Then _who_ came?"

"The man with the yellow eyes," he almost whispered. "He told me he could take care of my problem. Make my dad stop hurting my mom. In return I had to do something for him. In ten years he would come back and take something. Something that I would never even know was gone if he had privacy during his visit. I was a teenager. I never really believed he'd come back. Hell, I never really believed he'd do anything about my dad. But he did. My dad died in an accident on his tractor two days later and I never saw the yellow eyed man again. But he wasn't done. I found out later that he'd also been to visit two girls I knew. Liddy first. Her father was sick. Dying. The yellow eyed man made him better. Then when he was at Liddy's he saw Mary. You would have thought he'd seen God, Liddy told me later. Mary and her father interrupted him at Liddy's but he came back later to finish the deal. Then he went after Mary." He raised his eyes and looked directly into John's. "Mary Campbell."

John's breath caught. "My Mary? You knew my Mary?"

Miller nodded. "I thought it was you. Mary's husband John. Didn't see you more than a few times, but I thought it was you. My parent's farm was just outside Lawrence. Mary came to see me right after my father's funeral. She came with a couple of priests, but really, I'm pretty sure they weren't priests. She asked me what had happened, like she knew something was up. I found out later that she did. Me and Liddy and Mary got together after the yellow eyed man- Mary called it a demon- was done with us. Compared stories. Tried to figure out what it wanted. What it would come back for. Liddy and I didn't think it really would. Tried not to believe what had happened was real, but Mary knew better. She said it would be back."

_"Mary_ knew? Mary_ knew?" _John tried to wrap his head around Miller's words. His Mary had known about demons. "_How_ did she know?"

"Are you sure you want to hear the rest of this?" Miller's voice was almost compassionate. "Why don't you just go back to your kid and forget you ever knew about this. After all, it wasn't you. You don't have anything to feel guilty about. At least you don't if you stop listening right now."

"Kids. I've got two. And something killed their mother and may have tried to kill them. Just finish the fucking story."

"All right. Mary knew because that's what she did. It's what her family did. She called herself a hunter." Miller paused at John's inarticulate gasp. "After we all made our deals she told us what she knew about this thing, which wasn't much. Her family had dealt with demons from time to time, but this one was something out of her league. It killed her parents." Miller paused again, his eyes glued to John's, "it killed you."

"Killed me? What the fuck are you talking about? I'm not dead!" Even as he protested, John's mind flashed back to the day Mary's parents had died. The day he had woken up in her arms; her father lying dead on the ground nearby. Mary had tried to explain, but to this day he had no idea how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was Mary's father pulling her out of the car and going to confront him about it.

"No, you're not. But you were. That was her deal. Bring you back for some unspecified favor in ten years time. She asked for her parents back too, but it wasn't feeling very generous. It would bring you back. That was it. She took the deal. We all made deals. Me, Mary and Liddy and four years ago they all came due. We all had babies that year. They were what the damned thing wanted but how the fuck did it know we'd all have them at the same time? Mary and my Sandra walked in on the damned thing in the nursery. Liddy wasn't so unlucky. She's still alive. There were others who were there? Parents who died when they saw that thing with their children? These kids are damned. Unnatural. It did something to them, I just know it. And there's no telling how many more there are. If nobody caught it doing whatever the hell it did, it just finished up and took off. There could be hundreds of the little demons out there. Like that movie, Village of the Damned? Fucking hell spawn. I joined the church as soon as I got here and hoped prayer would keep the demon away. Didn't work though. Tried to hide. Mary got me and Roger new identities but she told us it wouldn't make any difference. It would find us no matter what. And it did." Miller's voice was slurring now, the whiskey bottle mostly empty.

"Mary knew. She said there was no point in running. A deal was a deal with these things and there was no getting out of it. Her family knew about these things. Had fought them for generations and the damned thing went through them like a knife through butter. She was going to do everything she could to protect her family, but she knew it wouldn't be enough." Miller's bleary gaze locked again on John. "She loved you. Wanted to spend her life with you. Protected you as much as she could. But it wasn't enough. Not against whatever this was. She wanted to get out of the hunting life and be normal. If she'd just stayed in, stayed sharp, that thing might not have gotten her." The whiskey bottle dropped from Miller's suddenly lax hand and his head dropped onto his chest. John just stared at him, stunned until Father Andrews took his arm and led him from the room. A small boy sat on the stairs outside the door, staring at the two men with large frightened eyes.

"Hello Max," Father Andrews smiled at the boy, but he only looked back mutely. John's heart ached as he thought back four years to another small boy with the same look and the same silence. He smiled at the boy too, but Max only dropped his eyes and ran up the stairs as the two men headed for the door.

John was in shock from Miller's revelations. Mary had been a hunter from a family of hunters. She had known about demons but had been foolish enough to make a deal with one. A deal that she didn't know the exact terms of. A deal that saved his life, but that had eventually cost her own. And maybe Sam's if Miller was right. All the fires and deaths that he knew about had been in the nursery. Now he knew that there could be many more affected children out there. But affected how? He was sure there was nothing evil in his sweet four year old Sammy. But the demon must have had a reason to make the deals, had some plan for the children it had visited. Wait and see wasn't something John was comfortable with, but he didn't know what else to do.

Father Andrews put a gentle hand on John's arm. "Can I buy you a drink, John? I think we could both use one."

"Thank you, Father. I think you're right." John's stunned gaze fixed on the priest. "Just one though. I can't be crawling into a bottle now. I did that right after my wife died and I won't do that to my boys again."

Ten minutes later they were sliding into a back booth in the neighborhood tap room. The priest signaled the waitress for two beers and sat back, looking at John with a worried, serious gaze.

"Are you all right, John? You just got a load dumped on you that would bury most people."

"For a guy that should have been dead for the last fourteen years, I guess I'm not doing too bad. But for a guy that just found out that his life with the woman he loved was a total lie, and whose youngest son may be a demon in disguise, I'm not doing too well. That bottle's looking awfully good right now."

"Just look at Jim Miller," the priest replied. "That bottle won't solve anything. It's making his life, his wife's and especially his son's a living hell. He really believes it's that boy's fault that Sandra died. That he's a demon in disguise. I do my best for the whole family, but it's an uphill battle with Jim. That's why I asked about your children. You don't believe your son is evil. At least you didn't before now."

"No, I don't believe that Sammy is evil. But I believed Mary was just a normal girl who knew nothing about demons or deal making too, so what the hell do I know? She never let on about what happened. Never let me help. That demon wanted something from the children it visited. Or wants something in the future. I don't know what, but I'm scared to death for my baby."

The waitress came with their beers and John just stared into his for a long while. "Why wouldn't she tell me? I was a soldier. I could have helped. Something evil was coming and she just let it take her away. It wasn't just her life that ended that night, " John's voice was low and choked. "Mine ended too in a very real way. I became a hunter. Raising my children on the road. Teaching them about all the evil in the world. My oldest hasn't been a child since the night of the fire. He's eight years old and he's one of the most responsible people I know. I can trust him to take care of his brother, when I should be taking care of both of them. I think about stopping sometimes. Getting a job, giving them a home. But then I think about Mary and the thing that killed her. I know something that very few people in the world know and I can use that knowledge to help other people. Keep them from going through the hell my family lives in. And I need to find the thing that destroyed my family. If I did stop I think I'd be just like Jim Miller. And I can't do that to my boys. And now, more than ever, I need to find out what happened that night. Because of Sam."

"You do need to know. But think about your children. Is this the life for them? You say your oldest has no childhood left. Is there any way you can give him one before it's too late? And your Sam. You don't know that the demon, if it even was a demon, did anything to him. Is it worth his childhood to protect him from something you don't even know will ever happen? Your wife died to protect your family. Do you think this is what she would have wanted for you all?"

"_What she would have wanted? How the fuck should I know what she would have wanted? I didn't even know the woman!" _John's enraged shout had the other bar patrons glaring at him. He didn't give a fuck that he was swearing at a priest. Religion had never meant much to him. Mary had prayed and Jim Miller had prayed and look where that had gotten them. And how dare this man tell him how to raise his children.

"You said yourself you had never met evil like what killed my wife." John's voice was quieter now but no less hard. "Don't you dare tell me how to raise my children. They're going to know what's out there. How to protect themselves. You think just because they're children supernatural creatures won't kill them? My friend the pastor, the one I left my kids with? He's a hunter. When you can tell me you _know_ what's out there, what I deal with on an almost daily basis? Then tell me what I'm doing is wrong. Thanks for the beer." With that, John had left the bar, jumped in the Impala and driven straight back to Pastor Jim's and the children that weren't safe without him.

***************************************************************

The blasting air horn of a passing truck catapulted John eighteen years into the future and back to his latest trip to Blue Earth. He had tried, with limited success, to come to peace with the fact that Mary had been a hunter. That she had lied to him about herself and her family from the very beginning. And he had mostly forgiven her. He had learned the hard way that, as much as you may want to, you can't always protect your family. Hell, right now he was lying to Dean and Sam. Hiding a whole hell of a lot from them for their own protection. So he really couldn't be mad at Mary forever. He'd never fully understand why she did what she did, and while he'd like to think that he'd never do the same thing, he's learned to never say never.

John had stopped by Saginaw from time to time, checking up on Max Miller. He was keeping tabs on all the children he knew about. Thankfully, they were all in the same area of the country so he could do it all in a couple of weeks. Scott Cary, still in Indiana. Andy Gallagher and Anson Weems, still in Oklahoma. Liddy Walsh's boy Jake out of reach now in Afghanistan. And of course Sam. In the Impala, then at Stanford. Nothing stood out about any of them. Up until now, they had been normal kids. Smart kids, athletes, slackers. The usual cross section of teenagers and young adults. If any of them had demonic powers they weren't showing it. It had been months since John had been by to check on any of them and after his demon q and a in Minnesota he planned on doing a recon on them all.

It was dusk two days later when John pulled into the driveway of Jim's house in Blue Earth. He looked at the light already on over the door and smiled to himself at the memory of Dean and Sam rushing out to meet him when he would come to pick them up. His smile faded a little he remembered how their happy faces turned fearful and uncertain when they had seen his injuries.. Dean would always reassure Sam and his father both that John would be fine. Now Dean needed to keep Sam fine and John was sure he was doing his best in a terrible situation. It wasn't like Dean's whole life hadn't been a terrible situation that he had done his best to make better for his family.

Cooking smells and the sound of pots clanking drifted from the kitchen as John walked through the front door. He relaxed for the first time in days at the familiarity of it all.

"Put your stuff in the spare room and get cleaned up. Dinner's almost ready," Jim called from the kitchen.

John did as he was told and a few minutes later was seating himself at a table covered with home cooked food. It was another reason he loved coming to Jim's. The man was an amazing cook and John didn't get to eat like this often.

"I heard from Dean today." John sighed. It looked like Jim wasn't going to give him a meal in peace. "He and Sam are still in Palo Alto. They're going to stay for a few days to see if they can get a lead on what killed Jessica."

"And have they found anything?" John asked. "The answer to that would be no. And they're not going to. The best thing for them to do would be to move on to the hunt I left Dean coordinates for."

"Sam's girlfriend was on the ceiling. She was bleeding onto his face. As soon as Sam saw her she burst into flames and burned in front of him. He watched the woman he loved die a terrifying and painful death. When that happened to you did you just move on? If you had you wouldn't be sitting here having dinner with me right now. Sam needs to do this. To look for answers even if there aren't any to be found. He's in terrible pain and you know that's got to be killing Dean. They'll move on soon. Dean's not going to let Sam stay in Palo Alto and go crazy from grief. He's planning on heading for Colorado at the end of the week. Thinks you left the coordinates because that's where you're going to be. When you're not there, they'll just keep on looking."

"They better damn well do the hunt first. There's a wendigo out there that's out restocking its pantry now. If it's not stopped it'll be another forty years before anyone gets another chance at it. Dean's a damn good hunter and when Sam has his head in the game he's a partner to be reckoned with. The two of them will have no problem with a wendigo. After that they can look for me as much as they want. Dean will hunt while he's looking and that will keep them out of the demon's way. At least I hope it will."

"Me too," Jim muttered. "Because if anything happens to those boys because you kept too many secrets? You'll never forgive yourself. And if Dean could have helped Sam and didn't because you didn't tell him what you suspect? He'll never forgive you."

"That's why we're going to catch ourselves a demon on this hunt. So I can _know_, not just suspect. Was Sam marked by a demon? If he was, then why? What's the endgame here? Have you found anything out about your demons?"

"Not much," Jim shook his head. "There's a town called Windom over in Cottonwood County. There's been demon sign there for weeks. Other than a few bodies disappearing from the local morgue there have been no odd occurrences. I'm guessing they're possessing the bodies, but I can't for the life of me figure out why."

"Possessing already dead bodies? That's a good thing for what I've got in mind. Getting a demon to talk won't be easy and I was worried about damaging the host. Now that's one concern out of the way."

"Leaving only how we're going to find them and trap one to question without all the others killing us."

"Well, we'll start by staking out the morgue. Maybe they'll come back for refills. Are there any abandoned buildings in the area where we can make our devils trap? We'll need somewhere close by to bring it to when we catch it."

"You're being awfully optimistic here, John. But yes, I know a place we can set up shop. God willing, we'll have something to bring back there."

John bit back a snort. Jim knew how he felt about God, but he didn't want to be offensive in his friend's house. "I'm always optimistic. Can't go into these things even thinking about failure or you'll be dead."

The two men finished their dinner and cleaned up while making plans for their trip to Windom the following morning. Hopefully the morgue would be the place to be for demon catching because if it wasn't it could be a long frustrating hunt. After checking their weapons and putting together a kit for making the trap they turned in, hoping to be in Windom early the next day.

**************************************

John stared at the corpse tied to a chair in the middle of the devil's trap. He was getting tired of waiting for it to recover enough from its dousing in holy water to hold a decent conversation. Its eyes were milky white now, but John knew that soon they would turn the inky black that had identified it for them in the first place. Just being a walking corpse hadn't been quite enough to do the job. Being a walking corpse sneaking out of the morgue had almost been enough, but John had seen enough people die from jumping to the wrong conclusion that he had waited until the splash of holy water had made the eyes flash black before dumping the rest of the holy water onto the demon and carving a binding symbol onto the rotting flesh.

"You can stop playing possum now, I know you're awake in there. Come on out so we can have a talk, or I'll start with the salted holy water and the silver." John had seen a lot of corpses in his time, but he couldn't repress a small swallow of revulsion as the thing straightened its broken neck and smiled at him with a mouth full of rotted teeth.

"Caught me. Twice now in fact. John, John, John. When _will_ you give up on this hopeless quest of yours? Trust me when I say you really don't want to catch up with who you're chasing."

John smiled back, just as sincerely, not at all surprised that the demon knew who he was. "Trust you? I don't think so. And give up? Not a chance. Sending you assholes back to Hell is just too much fun. And you can trust me when I say that I really, really want to catch up to the son of a bitch that I'm chasing. Want to keep talking? Go ahead, tell me what I'm in for. What the bastard has planned."

"Planned for who? For you? For Sammy? Maybe I should tell you what we have planned for _Dean_. Want to know what's in his future? It's gonna be good! Of course if I told you any of this, well, I'd have to kill you and it's just not time for that yet."

John didn't rise to the bait, just took his bottle of holy water and gave the demon a mouthful. The thing gasped as the water burned it, then spit a couple of teeth onto the floor.

"Why don't we start with what it wants with Sam and the other kids it came after when they were babies. Why it killed the people who caught it in the nurseries. If I believe those answers I'll send you back to Hell without any more torture. Sound like a good deal?" John held the bottle over the demon's head and waited.

"Please, John. Don't be simple. Why do you think he killed whoever caught him in the nursery? Because they saw what he was doing. He did tell the deal makers not to interrupt. Of course it would have helped if he had told them _what_ to not interrupt. But it did kill him to kill Mary. She was the mother of his favorite. Sam's always been on the fast track to first place. A hunter born of two hunters. Trained from childhood in strategy and weapons. Could be a little better at following orders, but that will come."

"First place in what? What could you possibly want a hunter for? That could backfire on you big time."

"There's a war coming, John. Could start next year or twenty years from now. He's out there now, planting more seeds in case the ones we have now don't pan out. But they will. It was written a long time ago, how things would go. And these kids, well one in particular, are going to work out just fine. On his visit twenty two years ago he gave each of them a little taste of his blood. And with his blood came certain, shall we say, gifts? Those gifts are maturing now. The kids are starting to be able to _do _things. Things that aren't in themselves evil, but used the right way they could be. One of those kids is going to be our general. Lead the demon army in the war. There's going to be a big old cage match to see who it's going to be and the last one standing gets the job. The higher ups have their money on your Sammy."

John had been dealing with evil sons of bitches messing with him for over two decades and he was also a hell of a poker player. He only quirked a lip at the demon and kept his voice sardonic to hide the turmoil he was feeling inside. "Sam's going to lead your army? I couldn't even to get him to go to target practice and you think you're going to tell him to wipe out the human race and he's going to say "Yes sir, where would you like me to start"? Not going to happen."

"Who's going to stop him. You? Whatever you tell him he'll do the exact opposite. You'll drive him right into our arms. No, you'd be surprised what people can be manipulated into doing. Take away their support structure and that's half the battle. We already took Jessica. Now the one we need gone is Dean. But that will come. It's written remember?"

"Well, why don't you tell me what was written about getting rid of Dean so I can do something about it, and we'll be done here."

"I don't know what you're going to do about it John. What's written is that Dean dies because of something you do. It's not specific about what, so I'd just be really careful not to do something that would kill him if I were you. Of course it could be anything. And you won't know beforehand. So, good luck with that."

Demons lied. It was a given. But they also told the truth when it was more hurtful than a lie and John was terrified that this demon was telling the truth. About Sam. About Dean. About the coming war. He decided it was time to send this bastard back to Hell and he called Jim in from his guard post on the porch.

"Did you hear all of that?"

"I did. It could be a lie. Or it could be the truth. We have to go with the assumption that it's true and go from there."

"I'm hurt that you think I would lie to you!" The demon smirked at them. "Your boys are the linchpins to the apocalypse, John. You should be so proud. We couldn't have gotten them to where they are without your help. You have our undying gratitude."

"Fuck your gratitude," John snarled. "Where can I find your boss? What poor kid is he going to contaminate next?"

"Oh, John. People are always looking for a way out. He made deals all over the country and really, I don't have his schedule memorized. He could be headed anywhere. You just keep following him and maybe you'll get lucky."

"Please send him back now, Jim before I chop him into little pieces and get corpse all over myself."

Jim stepped into the symbol and made a cut across the binding link. He started the exorcism ritual and soon the black, greasy smoke was shooting out of the corpse on its journey back to the pit.

As soon as the demon was gone, John started to shake. "Jesus, Jim. My boys... Sammy the leader of the demon army? Or dead if some other _special kid_ gets the better of him. And Dean, dead because of me. So he can't keep Sam from turning evil. If that thing was telling the truth it's more important now than ever to find that demon and kill it before it can hurt my kids any more than it has. Before it can start a fucking demon war."

Jim stared at his friend in concern. "What are you going to do now? Are you going to tell the boys about this?"

"Tell them? Are you crazy? Do you know what it would do to them to have this hanging over them? We don't even know for sure if it's true. Sam's not going to worry about whether or not he has demon blood in him and Dean's not going to worry about if Sam has demon blood in him. They've got enough to worry about without this. You think it would help Sam to know that his girlfriend was killed to make it easier to turn him? That Dean's going to die for the same reason? No. You keep track of them for me Jim. Help them however you can without letting them know where I am or what I'm doing. I'll catch up with them if I have to, but until then I don't want to be anywhere near them. Anywhere near Dean. I'll die before anything I do costs him his life."

Jim hesitated, then placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I'll pray for you."

John looked back at him grimly. "Pray for me. Pray for my children. Hell, pray for the whole damn world if you think it will help. I hear there's a nasty war coming. You pray for us all. I'm hitting the road now. That thing could be anywhere and I've got work to do."

Jim watched his friend get in his truck and drive into the night. His lips were moving as he prayed as hard as he ever had for God to watch over John Winchester and his sons. To watch over the whole human race.

The End


End file.
